Are We Worth It?

Gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Christians and seekers, I want to ask you all a very important question. Are we worth it? Do you believe that we are worth as much as hetero Christians? I know I’m being blunt, but we have no time to waste on subtlety. Our very lives are under fire from the Religious Right, so the quicker this question gets an answer, the better it will be for every one of us.

Straight Christians, so often hostile to us, are very much in love with

themselves. Walk into any Christian bookstore, and just behold the gifts and trinkets

they lavish upon themselves. We know that many of them hate us, but seldom do we

stop to think about how much they love themselves. The second point may, indeed,

be far more important to us than the first. And, as such, it deserves our urgent

attention.

Notice that, on TBN, Daystar, the 700 Club and the like, appeals for money are

made not only with silver-tongued glibness, but with the assurance of those who know

their needs will be met. They, of course, would say that God is meeting those

needs. Some of my readers might expect me to argue with that assertion, but I have

no quarrel with it at all. God meets their needs, to a large degree, by instilling in

them “His” love for them so deeply that they may rest assured of it. Thus, they love

themselves enough to believe they are worthy of ministries that share God’s love with

them. Many who minister to the GLBT community beat their heads against the wall in bafflement. Why don’t gay Christians give as generously as do straight ones? We are tempted to think it is because gay Christians simply care less — that relationship with God is less important to them than it is to straights. I, however, do not believe that for a minute. I refuse to succumb to the homophobia of the anti-gay elements in the Church. And that is exactly what such an underestimation of gay Christians’ devotion is. It is all too easy to be poisoned by homophobia when it is all around us, like the very air that we breathe. Not only do some who minister to sexual minorities tend to feel the effects of that poison, but so, too, do a great many of those to whom we minister. Do we see ourselves as worth it? Do we believe that we deserve good preaching, good music, good reading, study helps, words of encouragement and all the rest of it just as much as straight Christians do? It certainly does seem as if those who complain they must contribute to the ministries that serve them — as if somehow, miraculously, these ministries could survive without support — do so because they do not feel that they are worth being ministered to. And that is sad, indeed. There is a huge glut of ministries to straight Christians, particularly of the Right-Wing variety. They are stepping all over each other in a virtual hair-pulling, eye-gouging stampede. While for GLBT believers and seekers, there is hardly anything at all. Just a few, lonely voices, crying out in the wilderness and fainting of hunger and thirst. No matter how many new Right-Wing ministries spring up — including those that are most antagonistic toward sexual minorities — there always seems to be more than enough time, talent and treasure to support every one of them. No wonder so many in our community worldwide feel so lost and alone. How could they help but wonder if they have a friend in all the world? Those in large cities, in relatively progressive countries, forget the arid, loveless and hopeless conditions — the state of spiritual drought and starvation — that exist in so many smaller towns, rural regions and less-enlightened lands. If you find it difficult to imagine what I mean, just remember that our experience is shared by only a tiny minority around the globe. There but by the sheerest grace of God go we.

The economy of Christian ministry is different (or at any rate, ought to be) than

the economy of the world. The reason some ministries seem to be “free” to the public

is so that those who cannot afford to pay for them can be nourished by them. The

economy of the Gospel is the economy of generosity. But when those who can afford

to contribute at least something give nothing, that is a good way to get “free”

ministries to go away — or, in order to survive at all, to go commercial. Next time we

decry the fact that a price-tag is so often put on the Gospel, we need to recall this

very elementary fact.

Most ministries function similarly to churches. My congregation has several

homeless members, and at least a few more who live below the poverty line. They

can’t put much of anything into the collection plate each Sunday — nor do the rest of

us expect them to. There are also a lot of affluent members in our congregation, and

most of the rest of us do all right. If none of us put anything into the collection plate

because admittance to the church is “free,” then very shortly our sanctuary doors

would have to close forever.

It is not Candace’s ambition to ride in a block-long limo with steer horns on the

front fender, or to live on an estate the size of Donald Trump’s. Nor are such

ambitions mine, or those of anyone else associated with Whosoever. If they were,

believe me, we’d be doing something very different than putting out a magazine for

A self-described “Libertarian Episcopalian lesbian”, freelance writer and the author of “Good Clowns”, a young adult novel published in 2018, Lori Heine published a blog called “Born on 9-11” and was a frequent contributor to the website Liberty Unbound. A native of Phoenix, Ariz., she graduated from Grand Canyon University in 1988 and spent much of her life in the insurance industry before turning full-time to writing as a freelancer, blogger and author.